Aluthgama

Saturday 7th June 2003. Ceysands Hotel, Bentota
We were down by the landing stage at 7.15 this morning to see Margaret off. The last we heard and saw of her was half way across the river shouting back that the hotel had thought she was our daughter and given her the wrong bill! She’s been a great source of delight to all the other guests and has fitted in really well. Although they had arrived from England independently it chanced that George and Steve were returning on the same flight, so the three of them were sharing a car to Colombo airport.

During breakfast Susantha turned up. He’d arrived to collect Yves, Cathérine, Bruno and Andrea as he is taking them off on a wildlife safari to one of the national parks. He promised to work out a mini tour for us to the highlands around Nuwara Eliya. He has since rung us and arranged for a driver to collect us with all our luggage from here at 9am. on Monday, take us around the high lands for a couple of days, staying at specially nice places Susantha has selected for us, and deliver us to Ratmalana on Wednesday evening. The total cost with meals and accommodation will be 18,000 rupees for the pair of us. (Around £120.) He says he’s arranged it at cost for us as we’ve brought so much business his way. It’s only about half the price of tours arranged through the hotel here.

After breakfast Ian and I left the remaining young folk and walked the length of the sandspit to the furthest tip where the sea and the river meet. There is a little island there that is a Buddhist sanctuary. As we walked, dozens of small crabs scuttled, almost from beneath our bare feet, to rapidly disappear into sandy burrows just above the almost static tide line. We climbed across the rocks to the island and followed a little gravelled path, edged on either side by coconut oil lamps. The island is like a tropical jungle - actually it is a tropical jungle! The monsoon rains had come again with the dawn so everywhere was still wet and glistening. With the temperature already up at 35 degrees it was very humid indeed. In the bushes beside the path a three-foot lizard lumbered slowly along and crested birds flew amongst the trees.

The path is a contemplative one walked by the small community of monks. At the top we were met by a saffron-robed monk. Leaving our hats and shoes on the steps we were shown around by a nice boy of about thirteen who told us his brother is one of the monks here and did we have any school pens for him please? Sadly we didn’t. It appears school equipment is very poorly provided here. We gave him some rupees for his help to enable him to buy some and he took us to a tiny shrine where we lit incense sticks and stood them in sand at the Buddha’s feet. He showed us where the monks sit and meditate beneath the dark, cool vegetation in the middle of the tiny island. We also saw the stupa that every monastery has somewhere and a temple with four really lovely Buddhas sitting in a row. They are modern sculptures and I found then more delicately executed than most we have seen. Painted plain grey with black hair - rather than the usual brightly coloured Buddhas which unfortunately remind me of fairgrounds - they were seated beneath plaster trees with dark grey foliage.

We chatted with the monk, bought a couple of photographs and made a small donation to the monastery. We really enjoyed our visit and felt it to be possibly the most natural, living place of worship we have yet encountered in Sri Lanka.

(Panchkapaduwa copyright)

Island of Panchkapaduwa Inside the Meditation Hall, Panchkapaduwa

We returned through the surf, avoiding hundreds of beached jellyfish washed up by the high waves of the monsoon, past our hotel and along to the Taj. We intended to leave a message for Jeev at reception saying we were going off on a mini-tour on our own and wouldn’t after all need our luggage taking back to Ratmalana with them when they are collected on Sunday. In the event we bumped into them, so briefly joined them by the pool for iced lime juice before continuing into town in search of a bank.

We discovered a back way out of the Taj that brought us out near the bridge, beyond the area outside the hotel where we knew the touts lay in wait. So our day has been relatively peaceful. Quite a few people have spoken with us in the hope of making a sale, but we have been able to handle it. Perhaps we are getting more used to fending people off, or perhaps the con men recognised my gaudy sunhat from Thursday and remembered they achieved nothing then so would be unlikely to have better luck today.

We called at the boat house in Aluthgama. For 800 rupees for the pair of us we have been offered an 8am. river trip tomorrow with the promise of crocodiles. I suspect they will only be monitor lizards and 8am. is too early for us so I doubt we’ll go.

The bank was closed and will remain so until Monday despite the notice on the door saying that it is open. We couldn’t find a cash machine but the hotel has told us where there is one so that must be our first task tomorrow or we cannot pay either our bill or the cost of the car tour.


Two general views of Galle Road, Aluthgama in the heat-haze.

We explored the fish market – it stank, was full of flies and only sold tuna. There were little stalls nearby, several selling tobacco which is grown here, and betel leaves. Apart from handing them out to your elders at Poruwa weddings we wanted to know what so many leaves were used for. A friendly young man on one of the stalls showed us how he used the leaves to make a parcel with cut-up bits of betel nuts inside. He said they are then chewed and are really lovely, would we like to try one? We asked if they made you feel a bit strange – were they a kind of drug? He laughed and said they were so we declined the invitation. He said lots of people enjoyed chewing them and they made your mouth turn red.

We walked across the railway line that cuts through the market. Goats slept on the track and one nanny suckled her young kids on the crossing. Fabric shops sold ugly material, tee shirts and poor quality printed batik-style skirts. It is normal practice for people to sit on the roadside with a sewing machine and make any material you buy into a garment for you on the spot for a few rupees. Kate has had several dresses and tops made whilst she has been travelling around Sri Lanka, the average price working out at 200 rupees. (£1. 25)

Several bicycle shops sold sturdy Hero bikes. These are of Indian manufacture and are a very important asset to any family. Generally you will see at least two people to any bike, sometimes more. They are frequently ridden by men wearing sarongs, which can’t be easy with the bike’s crossbar. The bike also provides a means of transporting anything from a sack of rice to a trailer load of vegetables. In a land where many people don’t even have easy access to fresh water and still carry containers filled from the river on their heads, owning a bicycle of their own must still be the dream of many a family.

There was a jingling sound and we stood aside as a lightweight bullock cart came through driven by three children who were forcing the bullock to run at full speed in 35+ degrees of heat.

Nestling amongst the stalls of dried, smelly fish and the hardware stores selling huge aluminium cooking pots, bamboo woks and woven grass strainers, the luridly painted cinema was showing a film called “Black Sand” with a warning that it was strictly for adults. Most films here seem to be straight from Bollywood.

We discovered a bazaar created by a series of little businesses sharing premises and working co-operatively together. The appearance of a couple of white visitors caused an obvious buzz of excitement and everyone was anxious to show off their wares. We’ve never seen such a large selection of beautiful saris. They are wonderful here but we’d have no use for them in England. Dozens were got out for us to admire despite us saying we had no intention of buying. Cushion covers, sarongs, cheap wraps, tops, tee shirts, trousers and skirts were offered eagerly to us “with special discounts for sir and madam”. Then we were shown essential oils, spices, coir woven mats, carved elephants and Buddhas, bangles, bracelets, jewellery and tea. There were maybe a dozen people trying so eagerly to persuade us to buy. In the end we selected a couple of bangles as presents for our neighbours and some aloe vera for me.

As we were obviously not buying anything more, people relaxed and started to chat. Did we like the Sri Lankan people? Usually we have been asked if we like the country. This was a more interesting question. Most of the people are lovely, we replied. But there are some very nasty ones too. Yes, they agreed. Nasty to Sri Lankans as well. One man told us we should drink lots of coconut water while we are here so we will develop big muscles like him. He then rolled up his sleeves to show us how tough he was! As we walked away they shook hands and wished us a lovely holiday. They were really sweet people simply trying to make a living amidst the rubble and mess of a dirty, hot little town without any of the assets of the society that we in the West take for granted. Nobody living in these conditions can have access to a fridge and probably not to a flush toilet either.

We walked back to Galle Road and continued along our route of last Thursday to the German-owned café for some “short eats”. They turned the ceiling fan on for us as we went inside. A sink was provided to wash hands before eating. We were most grateful. The bill for the two of us was 102 rupees (about 65 pence). That’s for four assorted curry rolls and a litre of chilled water!

As we ate, a smiling itinerant poster seller banged on the window to show us his wares. He refused to take no for an answer, pulling out lots of different posters, including a map of Sri Lanka, and holding them up to the glass for us to see. Ian took out his own map and held it up on our side of the glass. Undeterred he rummaged in his sack and produced one of the World, indicating that his was even better because it showed the entire globe – waving his arms around his head in illustration. We admitted defeat. He was so funny! We went outside and for 50 rupees each we bought a couple of grubby but cheerfully colourful posters. One showed Sri Lankan fruits with the name of each in Sinhala beside it. The other was of the Sinhalese alphabet with the lovely round shaped initial letter and the word beside each illustration. Ian thinks the writing looks like a row of little bottoms on a wall! We’re sure that Neil will love the posters on the kitchen wall in Didcot as an aid to learning the language. The man was absolutely delighted that he’d persuaded us to buy from him. Now Kate and Rob want some for their home in Hastings so I hope he’s still around tomorrow, it will make his day!

We took the boat back to Ceysands and Ian wrote postcards while I went to the pool to cool off. Rob, Kate, Marc, Darren and Sam were playing water handball. I joined in briefly but it was too rough and anarchic for me. Marc and Rob had spent the morning water boarding on the river, towed behind a boat. Not very good, was their verdict. It was a lot more difficult than they expected. They then went body boarding in the surf which they found far more fun. They all looked more sunburnt than they should be. Marc leaves after breakfast tomorrow. He’s taking the train to Hikkaduwa and then to Matara for some surfing. When he arrives he’s promised to phone Ceysands to leave a message so that Rob and Kate can join him later. It good that they have all got on so well together.

7th July 2003 continued. 10pm.
We’ve just returned from supper. As our party gradually departs the young man who looks after our room is most anxious that we don’t forget to tip him before we leave. He keeps making excuses to come into our room to check that we are still here. Twice today he has smothered our bed with flowers whilst we’ve been at the pool and at supper. It’s a bit of a nuisance when we stagger in exhausted from the heat, longing to collapse onto the bed, to be obliged to lift off dozens of delicate frangipani flowers and pretty pink orchids and pop them into a bowl of water to float, before we can use the bed!


Say it with flowers! Ceysands style.

We are now amongst the last few still left out of our crowd of thirty or so. We watched everyone departing from the landing stage about an hour ago. Their last sight of Ceysands was of Kate, Rob and Marc bobbing around on the steps down to the boat and waving their arms in the air, the floodlit hotel reception desk behind them, singing “farewell, au revoir, auf Wiedersehen, goodbye” from the “Sound of Music”. It surprised and amused the departing guests and made a light moment when everyone was feeling rather sad that such a lovely time was finally ending.

We watched the lights of the boat, with everyone waving as it crossed in the darkness to the further bank. Knowing they could see us even if we couldn’t see them, the “cabaret” continued with dancing and waving whilst the singing sounded across the water. The hotel staff is now quite convinced the British are peculiar!